


Prodigal Pieces

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: This is a collection of Prodigal Son shorts (for everything under 300 words). Each flash fic or drabble will be a different character/pairing/etc. Check the 'chapter' notes for warnings and pairings.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	1. Calculating

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/YlF8A2c)   
> 
> 
> Thanks to Kiramaru for this wonderful cover for this series of micro-fics! I love it.
> 
> **Chapter One Summary:** Martin is taking the risk of his life.
> 
> **Notes:** written for classics_lovers for the prompt of Prodigal Son, Martin Whitly, calculation

Everything about this evening had been a calculated risk. Two murders for the price of one. Normally that would excite him but one of the killings was meant to be his son. Martin stole glances at Malcolm drowsing in the back seat, ignoring whatever John had been nattering on about. How could he kill his son? The risk there was what would he tell Jessica? Would it be believed? What happened if the girl in the back of the station-wagon threw off the effects of the sedative before they got to the cabin.

She didn’t and at the end he couldn’t do it. Malcolm had woken up chipper and inquisitive. He couldn’t destroy him. Martin knew his love was imperfect, fractured from an early age but Malcolm and Ainsley were as close as he came to it. 

Sweating from chasing Malcolm down after he stabbed John, Martin dressed himself in his surgical garb. He prepared himself mentally for taking the girl apart. He had some theories on the anterior talofibular ligament and the calcaneofibular ligament post ankle sprain he wanted to test on her. He’d drugged Malcolm again. His next calculated risk: trusting his son to keep quiet about her.


	2. His Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All she can think to do is kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters/Pairings:** Jessica Whitly/Gil Arroyo
> 
> **Notes:** written for cozy_coffee for the prompt of Any, any/any, kiss

He’d been convalescing for days, fading in and out of consciousness, all her fault. He’d come to save her from Endicott and Gil had nearly bled out. She had been the one to save him, sitting vigil at his bedside.

Today she walked in to find Gil sitting up in bed, watching TV. He had no color but he was eating breakfast, alert. _Alive_. Gil sipped his coffee, glancing at the door. He smiled seeing her. Before he could say hello, she was across the room, arms around him. 

At the risk of jostling him hard, Jessica kissed Gil senseless.


	3. we're the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for templefugate in comment_fic for the prompt fear (in 25 words or multiples there of)

Malcolm’s hand shook as he stared as if it had come out of the dream coated in blood. Not a dream, a recovered memory. He smelled his father’s aftershave as Martin Whitly’s hand guided his ten-year-old one, driving the knife into someone. Fear that they were the same consumed him.


	4. Fun Little Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Edrisa has her secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for vanillafluffy at comment_fic for the prompt - Prodigal Son, Edrisa Tanaka, the hobby she doesn't share with anyone.
> 
> This is about double what I usually put here but it felt more like a character study than a story so I decided against making it a stand alone.

Edrisa’s life was mostly an open book. She preferred it that way, and she wasn’t great with secrets. Oh, she could keep them. Being a doctor demanded it but she had enough of that on the job. She gladly told everyone about her love of puzzles or all the true crime forums and podcasts she haunted. They knew all about her history fetish but there was one part of her life that she shared with no one, at least not anyone at work. She didn’t want to give them another reason to laugh. 

Oh, Edrisa knew the team liked her and the jokes were just good-natured ribbing that she could shake off easily. But occasionally her feelings did get hurt. Maybe she did get a little enthusiastic about things – especially Bright but it was hard not to. Maybe she kept this part of her life to herself because she was a bit older than the team, a decade or so if she were honest. Edrisa was old enough to remember when being a geek wasn’t mainstream, and when people mocked you when they found out you wrote fanfic.

Edrisa remembered those times well. Only the geeky loners cosplayed but that’s what the outside world thought. Online she had so many like-minded friends who knew her as Tomomi, a lovely Japanese name that roughly translated to beautiful intelligent friend which she thought fit her. No one knew Edrisa cosplayed but Tomomi was well known.

She had an anime con coming up, and she’d been trying out her various outfits, trying to decide on which to wear, polling her friends. Edrisa sewed them all herself. She had good hands, could have been a surgeon if not for the stress of it. Still she got plenty of experience cutting and sewing on the job. At home, sewing had become one of her hobbies.

Many of Tomomi’s friends wanted her to give TikTok a try but she felt a little too old, and with as addicted to his phone as JT was, he might actually find that, with her luck. She had posted her Hange Zoë cosplay the other day and it proved popular. However, it was summer and Hange’s outfit was heavy and warm.

As much as Edrisa loved anime and science fiction, she didn’t like how so many of the female characters were drawn as sex objects, like _Ao no Exorcist_ ’s Shura Kirigakure, a cosplay she would have been uncomfortable with even if she were still twenty. So many others were outfitted equally skimpy, even on shows with high school kids like _Boku no Hīrō Akademia_. She knew harassment happened at cons, less to her at her age but it was the dark side to her otherwise fun and relaxing hobby. 

She rooted through her closet and came away smiling. She hadn’t done a _Hagane no Renkinjutsushi_ cosplay in a few years. Pulling on black capri pants and the sleeveless white, knee-length, split front tunic, Edrisa checked herself out in the mirror. This would be cool in all conceivable ways. One wig with multiple dark braids later, Edrisa was back in the mirror drawing a flamel over her chest. On the day before the con, she’d apply it with henna.

By the time she was taking selfies, Edrisa Tanaka was gone and Izumi Curtis stood in her place. As she uploaded the pictures to Tomomi’s account, Edrisa wondered, would Bright understand this? He probably wouldn’t laugh but he’d never given any signs he liked anime or science fiction. Then again, she’d never asked him about it. Maybe she’d be surprised. She wasn’t ready to come out of the fandom closet at work but a few questions about specific shows might shed light on whether or not, Bright was a fan. She might do it or maybe just enjoy a fantasy where he felt the same as she did about the topic. Either way she hoped fans of her work enjoyed her Izumi because she knew she would. Izumi was always a blast to embody and she couldn’t wait to do it again.


	5. Dead of Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm never expected his father’s support in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for classics_lover for the prompt Prodigal Son, Martin Whitly + Malcolm Bright(+/any), Martin is a Supportive Dad in the WEIRDEST ways
> 
> Implied BDSM life style

Malcolm had complete forgotten the collar in his coat pocket after last night’s session. If he’d remembered it, he wouldn’t have whipped his winter coat off in his father’s stifling room. The collar flew out of his pocket, flopped on the ground and rolled right across the red line on the floor. All three men stared at it. Malcolm’s cheeks burned. Mr. David feigned a sudden deep interest in the book he’d been reading.

His father strode over and picked up Malcolm’s favorite accessory. The little heart-shaped bell on the front jingled as his father ticked a finger against it. A little smirk rode his lips as he looked at Malcolm who wanted the floor to open and drop him into the room below, no matter what sort of psychopath awaited him there. “For your or for your partner?”

Malcolm squared his jaw, meeting his father’s gaze. “Mine.”

His father ran a finger over the red leather. “Tuscan leather?”

Malcolm nodded.

His father beamed. “Well done. If you’re going to do something, son, you should always do it in style. Tuscan leather is the best in the world.”

Of all things his father could have said, Malcolm never expected approval.


	6. Boarding School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And my friend spikesgirl58 had another drabble challenge in 100 words use the following words. Family, Scan, Restrict, Bridge, Teach, Skin

Gil scanned the headmaster’s office, throttling back his rage. It was always something with the Whitly family though nothing that happened to Malcolm was his fault. Malcolm sat in the corner, head down, bruises on his skin. He’d been beaten up again. The parents of the bullies were there but Gil knew there’s be no teachable moments here. Families this wealthy thought the rules didn’t apply. There’d be no repercussions, no bridge to understanding, probably wouldn’t be until they managed to truly hurt Malcolm. If he were Jess, he’d restrict access to Malcolm. Maybe one day she would.


	7. Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This double drabble came from spikesgirl58's prompt to use the words Confront, Toss, Dollar, Marathon, Opera, Nerve.

Watching Endicott escort Jessica out of her son’s loft, Gil itched to confront the man. He didn’t like how Endicott drew jealousy out of him, how he had acted like Gil had no place in Malcolm’s loft, as if he hadn’t been Malcolm’s dad for years. Gil belonged.

Things had just started getting promising with Jess after so many years and Endicott had swooped in all but making it rain dollars, never letting Gil forget he couldn’t match him. A middle-class cop couldn’t compete with a millionaire when it came to sweeping Jessica off her feet. He wished she thought to ask him to escort her to the event. Gil would have taken her to the opera had he known she wanted to go even though he probably wouldn’t have liked it much.

The urge to toss Endicott out one of Malcolm’s windows overwhelmed him, especially after Endicott flashed a smarmy grin at him, hand on Jess’s back, getting on Gil’s last nerve. Hoping Malcolm didn’t notice he was angry, Gil reminded himself with love it was a marathon, not a sprint. Jessica knew substance when she saw it. She saw him and that was what mattered in the end.


	8. My Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Vanilla Fluffy for the prompt Prodigal Son, Malcolm Bright, dancing in the dark. It's longer than most of my Prodigal Pieces but it's actually a scene from what will be a longer story so I didn't want to just put it out by itself. All you need to know is written into the first paragraph.

Dani caught her breath when the hosts of the club announced the special treat for the night – as if the prescribed dress hadn’t been treat enough. The subs were invited to do an erotic dance. She exchanged glances with Colette. This undercover mission was going to go sideways and fast. It was hard enough to keep up appearances as they tracked down a serial killer taking out partners fitting the female dom, male sub pattern. Colette’s partner, Nick, was too young of an agent, too hesitant as it was about this undercover mission. He might be a good FBI agent but he wasn’t cut out for undercover. Bright, at least, did better with it. It helped that he naturally fit the pattern.

Dani cut her gaze over to Bright in his leather briefs that tied up the sides and in the front, bulged slightly since he wasn’t aroused. She didn’t envy either Malcolm or Nick having to be dressed provocatively in a sex-heavy setting. None one would miss it if they were aroused. The fact that she loved Bright in those leather shorts wasn’t as easy to tell. He hadn’t liked having to add the lacy cuffs but that’s what the hosts insisted on as the theme, the touch of the feminine. He and Nick were in black tights too. Bright wasn’t thrilled about them. Nick had already torn his.

Bright might be able to pull off the leather briefs and the steampunk corset he had on – something he owned god only knew why - but an erotic dance? Dani couldn’t picture it. There was no way Bright could dance like that and Nick sure as shit couldn’t. He could barely fake being into being submissive. Bright didn’t have to fake that. The trick was to not accidentally send Bright into subspace. If he dove into that, and the serial killer was able to get the drop on them, they wouldn’t fare well. Dani tapped Bright’s favorite riding crop against the top of her boots. His pupils dilated as he watched the crop’s lazy swing and he rubbed the purple leather collar he wore. 

“Bright, we can’t do this,” she hissed, wondering if they should just back out of this one tonight.

He frowned. “Don’t count me out.”  
  
Dani caught Colette’s eyeroll but didn’t mirror it as much as she might want to. Bright seemed to earnest and it would hurt his feelings.

“It’s not like we have to be good, right? We’re not professional dancers,” Nick said but he seemed to be sweating through his makeup bruises faking actual submissive marks.

Even Bright side eyed him, his own heart-shaped bruises standing out purple against his pale skin. Dani still felt a little guilty about them even though she knew he wore them proudly, had enjoyed earning them. “We need to make it look good,” he replied. “But no, there’s no law saying we have to be good. Just try to look like you’re enjoying doing a dance for your mistress.” That he added lowly so not to be overheard.

Dani bit her lip between Nick’s bemused expression and the thought about what her and Colette’s camera glasses were catching. Gil, JT and Special Agent Aidan were on the receiving end of all their footage. Dani’s shoulders shook as she tried to swallow back the laugh at the thought of ‘who would be more horrified at Bright’s erotic dance, Gil or JT?’

“What’s so funny?” Bright hissed in her ear.

“Gil and JT having to watch this.”

Bright laughed openly and she shoved him. “Don’t you start me. I’ll never be able to hold it together.”

He only laughed louder so she cracked her riding crop against her heeled boot. “Do I need to punish you?”

“Please,” he begged, throaty but still giggling like a school girl. Dani slapped his thigh with the heart-shaped tip of the crop. She didn’t like him in tights, she decided. It wasn’t Malcolm’s style at all.

The lights dimmed in the club and their hosts, a lesbian couple one with her black hair natural and haloing her head and the other paler than Malcolm and Nick, walked out onto the small area that might have had a band playing there once upon a time. Justina took the microphone and announced joyously, “We’re so happy to see so many wonderful couples here tonight. We thought having our sweet subbies dance for our enjoyment would be a great way to kick off the evening. So, let’s see your best moves, be naughty, make your dom get you in line.”

“I can do that,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. Dani still held back her eyeroll even as Alice Cooper’s _My Temptation_ poured out of the speakers. The light stayed dim, leaving the club dark, punctuated by some blue neon.

Bright nodded to Nick to get him to start. Dani and Collette’s eyebrows rose in concert at his absolutely appalling moves, which Dani couldn’t imagine who would be aroused by them. Bright shook his head and said, “Do better.”

“I’m trying,” Nick whined doing something with his hips that looked more like someone had dropped a snake down his pants than anything erotic. 

“Like this.”

To Dani’s utter amazement, Malcolm caught the beat of the music and grabbed on to it, moving his hips in a little shimmy at first, and then as Cooper was talking about being down on his knees, he dropped to his knees bending back so far his shoulders and head brushed the ground. Somehow he gyrated his hips in the position before flowing into what had to be one of his yoga positions. On all fours, he pumped his hips and brushed his lips over the top of Dani’s booted toes. She exchanged looks with Colette. Even Nick was frozen watching. _Who was this Malcolm Bright?_

He planted one hand on the ground, flipping a hand stand, landing on his feet like a cat only to gyrate his way back to his knees. He ran a finger up his midline before toying with his lips, his eyes on her. In private, Dani would have to tell him she’d been wrong. He was erotica as hell when he danced. She wanted to drag him off somewhere private and let him keep dancing for her.

He stood, glancing at Nick with an encouraging head nod to get him dancing again. Bright moved his hips like his spine was as supple as the licorice he loved, squatted down with a flash-fast opening of his thighs, and ended with his arms wrapped around Dani’s leg, head against her thigh. Dani could hear JT now as he saw the recording. _Who Taught Bright To Dance Like a Stripper?_


	9. Two Sides of the Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t know why he keeps seeing his father. It causes him nothing but pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** Written for darkmoore for the prompt Prodigal son, Malcolm Bright, He wished he could truly hate his father, but some small part of him will always love him.

As he walked out of Claremont, Malcolm’s hands shook, a fine tremor that overtook them both. Would he ever manage to visit Martin Whitly when his father didn’t gaslight him? He hated his father sometimes with an anger that terrified him. It was in those moments Malcolm stepped into his father’s skin, could maybe even become him if he let himself. They were the worst. 

Malcolm paused, canting his face to the sun, letting it warm him. In a shaded portion of the parking lot a black Le Mans waited for him, an oasis of quietude and love in this violent sea of emotion. Today Jackie manned the wheel. She was probably sitting there, windows down, feet up on the dash with the seat half reclined, reading her latest fantasy book, ready to talk dragons and unicorns with him until the anger and tears receded. How she had sneaked the car away from Gil would be a mystery forever.

He should never come back here. What was the purpose in it? He hated his father and everything he was. He left here angry and hurt every time. He cried his way home always. But what hurt the most was….he didn’t really hate him. Malcolm loved his dad. It was The Surgeon he hated. That’s what shredded him. Love and hate warred inside him, making his head a nightmarescape. All he wanted was his dad back, his real dad, the one who read him books and had given him horseyback rides. He wanted the man who took him camping and taught him anatomy, though he supposed those things were lies, prelude to teaching him to kill.

Forcing it from his mind, Malcolm smoothed down his Remington school jacket and stared at the Le Mans. Jackie got out of the car, looking at him. He broke into tear and she folded him into her arms, holding him until the storm passed just like it always did. She didn’t need to say anything. Jackie just needed to be herself, warm and soft and understanding.

“Let’s get you home, baby.”

Malcolm nodded and collapsed into the car. He wasn’t going home, not really. Mom had taken Ainsley on a trip so he was staying with the Arroyos for the weekend. He looked forward to it. At least he could be with them without being conflicted. The Arroyos were easy to love and he did, whole-heartedly.


	10. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Malcolm's first day at Harvard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for spikesgirl58's challenge to use the following words in a story Fascinate  
> Presidential  
> Snake  
> Enthusiasm  
> Code  
> Dressing

Harvard was a lot of new things for Malcolm and he was up for them all, well maybe not the presidential welcome. He, like most freshman, had zone out of the welcome ceremony’s speeches. He couldn’t fake enthusiasm for that. His classes, on the other hand, were bound to fascinate him. He’d already gotten intro to psych and bio one out of his way while in high school so he could dive right into this classes. Abnormal psych here he comes!

For the first time in his academic career there was no damn dress code! Granted dressing however he wanted was new to him. He hoped he wasn’t too stuffy, like Jackie said. She and Gil had given him some clothing to go with him, a counterpoint to his mother’s high end offerings. He liked the sapphire blue Henley. 

He'd already signed up for the fencing team and for once in his life, he thought about joining a group of kids, maybe not a frat, at least not right away but he was going to be different here. He was Malcolm Bright, not Malcolm Whitly son of a notorious serial killer. This was the fresh start he deserved. No one was going to ruin it like they had at Remington. 

Of course, he missed Mom and Ainsley. He missed Gil and Jackie. Heck, he even missed his snakes, which he was pretty sure Mom was getting rid of the first moment she could. Malcolm supposed he couldn’t blame her. Still, no matter who and what he missed, Malcolm was excited. He felt like his life was beginning. Now if only he could keep himself from going home every other weekend, if only he could stop going to Claremont to see his father.

“One step at a time,” he whispered and left his room, eager to see what Harvard would bring.


End file.
